A Soldier's Family. Cheryl Wyatt

The cold of his hand. The unseeing eyes. No warmth. No response. All she’d wanted to do was to throw herself over that expensive box and wail for him like her son.

      She shivered at the memories.

      They’d assaulted her earlier at Manny’s bedside, and they took her mind hostage now.

      Please let Manny be okay. Don’t make his team go through losing one of their own.

      Prayers had bubbled out of her for Manny at the hospital, too. She couldn’t help touching his skin, reassuring herself the warmth of life still resided in him despite how bad he appeared.

      Wake up. She’d whispered Javier’s words to Manny and begged God to make it so.

      Then he had.

      Embarrassment had caused her to act feisty toward him. Regret for harsh words seemed the story of her life. As hard as she wished to take it back, life didn’t provide do-overs.

      “Actually, Celia—” Amber started then stopped when Celia jerked back to attention.

      “Joel mentioned Manny gave his life to God a few weeks ago.” Amber pulled Psych the cat into her lap, and studied Celia.

      Too carefully.

      It alerted Celia that Amber may be on to her. Amber didn’t keep secrets from her, and she shouldn’t keep them from Amber. Guilt waylaid Celia. Still, she wasn’t ready to reveal what she couldn’t even explain to herself yet.

      Better to keep up the front while she could until she managed to figure out these confusing emotions.

      “Ha.” The music to the oldies song, “That’ll Be the Day,” played in Celia’s head. She wrestled the temptation to hum it out loud to elicit a reaction from Amber. She hated her immediate tendency to doubt another person’s faith. It wasn’t for her to judge whether Manny was for real or not. Then why did she?

      She knew why.

      Her hypocrite father, the deacon who’d lived one way at church and another at home. She’d lost count of her mother’s bruises to prove it. Celia shook her head to rid herself of pity. She’d tried and tried to help her mother get away.

      Amber dropped her arms. “You don’t believe Manny?”

      That’s not why Celia shook her head, but now that Amber mentioned it, Manny’s brazen actions at the reception zipped into sharp focus.

      Fat chance he’d changed his tune all that much in so little time. Character took years to build, even with God at the helm. Right? Look how many years she’d been asking Him to help her control her tongue. Yet Celia’s verbal assaults had only gotten marginally better over the years.

      This so-called conversion could be a ploy.

      She’d seen Manny’s type before. And heard. And smelt. And felt. In the violent words, angry fists and abusive face of her father who reeked like a brewery gone bad. Except on Sunday when he smiled and smelled sickly sweet of Heaven’s Glory cologne. A yearly gift from the congregation who adored him and had no idea the man he was at home.

      How Celia abhorred that smell.

      “Celia?” Amber set the cat down, brushing fur off her pants.

      Celia lifted her chin. “How should I know his motives? Besides that, why should I care?” Or give him the benefit of the doubt? “This doesn’t concern me whatsoever.” Never mind that his half-sedated grin upon waking had thrown her pulse for a roller-coaster loop.

      “We invited him to stay with us while he’s recovering from surgery.” Amber tickled Psych under his collar with her toe. “Refuge has one of the top rehabilitation centers in the nation. Manny is considering the doctor’s suggestion that he recover here. They’re looking at six months due to the reconstructive surgery his injuries require.”

      Six months? Would the nightmare of Manny never end?

      Celia’s arms flailed around again. “Whatever. I can’t stand that guy and he can’t stand me. It’s a mutual dislike.”

      But she could hardly steer clear of Amber’s home due to the fact they were deep in the throes of several large projects, including care packages for soldiers overseas and community programs. Amber’s house was where all the supplies were mailed and stored. Celia would just have to find a way to steer clear of him. That, or perfect the art of ignoring.

      “At least pray for him.” Amber sighed. “He should be out of surgery by now, but Joel hasn’t called. I’m concerned. I can’t get any of the guys on their cells, and the nurse couldn’t give an update over the phone. I’d like to ride back to the hospital to check on him but it’s almost time for school to get out.” Amber’s voice cracked. She eyed her phone, then the wall clock.

      Celia chewed her lip. “You should be there for Joel in case things aren’t going well.”

      Amber ran a hand through her hair. “But I need to get Bradley off the bus.”

      Pings of remorse hit Celia. She should offer to go with Amber back to the hospital. Right now, she was still too embarrassed by what Manny had said to her brazenly in front of a room full of their friends. Not only that, he’d flirted with her all night before making it vocally clear how he’d like his evening to end. Guys like that she needed to steer clear of. She refused to be a cheap conquest in that PJ’s bullet belt.

      Not to mention shame had draped her like negligee-sheer curtains, giving away her secret attraction toward Manny. Drawn from the first day she’d met him year before last at the school, clad in camouflage. He’d stood behind Amber as Joel parachuted to the lawn to honor ill Bradley’s wish. Celia flushed at the memory of the interested glances Manny’d tossed her way. Like two people playing ball on a tennis court, he’d tossed some doozies to her, then watched to see if she’d throw the flirt ball back.

      She hadn’t.

      Hoo-boy, how she’d wanted to.

      But she hadn’t. He wasn’t the kind of guy to get involved with. He radiated danger in every way. To her faith. To her wild past. To her heart. To her promise to herself never to fall for guys packing heat again.

      She needed a man with a desk job. One who brandished a protractor or a calculator or even a ruler. Not powerful guns and wicked-looking knives strapped to their person. Yeah. Bring on the geeky guys.

      How boring.

      She hadn’t been prepared for how bad she’d feel facing Manny for the first time after the reception. Nor how seeing the battered scar on his lip would remind her how she’d lost control and acted hideously by striking him.

      Just like her dad. The one person she’d sworn never to be like. To top it off, Javier had sauntered into the reception hall that moment, witnessing her slap Manny. Javier had been as angry as Manny. They’d both stalked out opposite doors. For the first time, Javier stayed gone all night.

      Recalling the violated look and red splotch on Manny’s face at the hospital this morning had spurred remorse and she’d rested her guilty hand on his arm. Celia’s thoughts had zipped back to the present when Manny decided at that precise moment to awaken.

      She’d never felt so uncomfortable in the presence of another human being as she did while Amber and Joel grabbed a bite to eat at the hospital cafeteria, leaving her alone with Manny. And her errant thoughts.

      Better to avoid him completely. Never mind that inner voice nudging her to apologize. That scepter of conscience jabbed her to lay down her pride and forego the right to be offended by Manny’s actions. Consider it an opportunity to extend grace. Fine. She still didn’t have to be around the guy. Celia cringed at the memory of the horrible smacking sound and the sting of flesh against her hand the second it made contact with his face. How humiliating that must have been for Manny.

      She grinned.

      Conviction, sharp and pointed, speared her deep in that sensible place fighting for stable footing in her heart.

      She